


clinging to the ruin (of your broken home)

by cerealmilk



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, F/F, Injury Recovery, Minor Character Death, clem's passing out experience based on my own, confusing teenage emotions, idk what this is but it's here now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerealmilk/pseuds/cerealmilk
Summary: Clementine goes home.





	clinging to the ruin (of your broken home)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote half of this two months ago and half of this last night at 3 am im so sorry. i dont know what this is. theres so many time skips. im sory

Clementine is tired. They’ve been walking a while, and AJ’s feverish body grows heavier with each passing second.

She declines James’ offer to help carry AJ the last half mile to Ericson’s, despite the fact that her muscles burn with exhaustion, despite the odd fragility permeating her bones, despite the foggy feeling clouding her lungs. Her body is weak from overuse. The weeks since the crash have been brutal and she still hasn’t fully recovered; Ruby told her not to push herself, and here she is, forcing her body to function far beyond its limit.

She declines James’ offer because she feels as if there’s something for her to prove, something she  _ needs  _ to prove— prove to Lilly that she  _ can  _ and  _ will  _ protect AJ, that he will be the one that doesn’t die this time. She’ll do whatever it takes.

It’s hard, though. God, it’s hard. With every step she takes she wavers, fearing that the next may very well be her last. Her skull is pounding, ears ringing faintly, so it comes as no surprise that she barely registers James stopping beside her as they finally arrive at Ericson’s, the brick walls no more than twenty feet away.

_ “Walker!” _ She hears from above. Willy shoots an arrow. Misses. 

When he turns to look at her, however, his eyes widen and he runs away yelling. Clementine has begun to feel rather cementlike.

“Look, you live out there alone, right?” She asks James, even though her mouth feels full of cotton, tongue working slow. “You could… stay with us.”

Things get cloudy after that because all she catches is ‘not ready’ before he wanders back into the foliage, leaving her alone before a school of people that may not even take her back. Was it worth it to come back to them? It was the only option she had, sure, but what does it mean if they say no? She can still feel Brody’s blood on her hands, mingled now with AJ’s. She can remember how Marlon’s blood felt as it splattered across her face.

Well. As long as they take AJ back. It doesn’t matter what happens to her.

Twenty steps. Twenty steps lie between her and potential safety. Clementine takes three steps and her knees give an ominous wobble. She doesn’t know if she can make it.

“I can’t keep carrying you,” she rasps, taking another half-step and almost keeling over. It's so hard, but she needs to do this. She  _ needs  _ to save AJ. 

For Lee, who died so she could live. For Carley, who taught her how to balance emotions with control. For Kenny, who reminded her of the importance of family. For Jane, who reminded her of the importance of survival. For Rebecca, who brought this bundle of life into the world. For Alvin, who never got the chance to see his son. For Javier, who has yet to teach AJ baseball like they promised...

...but she doesn’t have any strength left. Her arms are numb but still clutch AJ tightly. Her legs are unresponsive, and if she tries to move again she’s fairly certain they will break.

A blurry figure appears at the gate. Squinting through strange blue dots speckling her vision, she thinks it might be Louis. He doesn’t open the gate, and she’s still too far away to get AJ inside. She tries to speak but her mouth is dry and the words are broken and her jaw is locked in place.

The world around her gives a sudden lurch, and the next thing she knows her knees buckle and slam into the forest floor. Her ears are ringing painfully and everything around her is lilting on a crooked axis and she’s  _ tired _ and she feels like she’s going to be sick.

Louis is there. He says something she can’t hear. It sounds like a question. Clementine forces out the only response she knows.

“He’s alive; got shot. He’s got a fever. Please, help him.”

Louis says something else, more frantic. She doesn’t hear it, can’t respond because her vision is going blue and gray. This only seems to worry him, but at least it spurs him into action. AJ’s weight is lifted from her arms and the arc of Clementine’s spine deepens. She’s burning up inside, everything molten and deadweight and she's so, so tired.

Voices bleed through the blue-gray haze.

_ “What the fuck is going on out here, Louis?” _

_ “I-I don't know! She just said AJ was shot and had a fever, and now she isn't moving!” _

_ “Shit. Get him inside! Tenn, go tell Ruby to get her stuff!” _

Clementine feels a pair of cold hands dust across her cheeks, holding her face. The cold is nice. It dulls the pounding in her head. All she wants to do is close her eyes.

_ “Clem. Clem, can you hear me? We need to get you inside. Can you stand?” _

“Don't think so,” she croaks. Her eyelids are heavy.

_ “You look exhausted. Damnit— I told them we never should've let you go. Hey, don't pass out on me, alright? Don't close your eyes. You can't sleep yet. We need to get inside.” _

“Okay,” Clementine exhales. “Not yet. Okay.”

The owner of the concerned voice pulls her in close to help her stand, and Clementine's head comes to rest against a denim-clad shoulder.

In the end, that's all it takes. A place to rest, a brief wink in time for her to close her eyes. 

As soon as her cheek makes contact with Violet’s vest, she’s out like a light. 

 

* * *

She wakes up six minutes later on a plush white chair in the main office of the admin building, feeling disoriented and panicked because AJ is  _ missing _ . Thankfully, Violet also happens to be in the room, and quickly reassures her that Ruby is taking care of him now before offering her a bottle of water.

For a few minutes, they don’t say much. Clementine finishes the water, and Violet wanders back over to her desk. Surprisingly, Violet is the one that breaks the silence.

“What happened, out in the woods… I saw they had you pinned, and I…” she trails off, raking a hand through her bangs and glaring at the floorboards. “...shit, I got so crazy. When I heard you call for help, I didn’t even think.”

Clementine is stunned, caught unaware and unsure now of how to approach this subject. Violet turns back to her before she can even begin to respond. Her voice is wracked with something that she can’t name.

“I wanted to help you, but when you told us to run, I trusted you.” Violet sighs, but doesn’t break her gaze. “Thank you, for protecting us.”

Clementine can only nod in response. It was an instinctive response, back in the woods. She'd seen Violet and Louis approaching, met Violet’s gaze. She could have let it happen . She could have let Lilly die. It would've been vindictive. Lilly would have deserved it.

And yet, when she'd seen the two of them, the only thing she'd felt was panic, a primal surge of  _ please get the fuck out of here or else you're going to be hurt.  _ So, she'd told them to run. It's really nothing that needs to be thanked. Marlon is still dead because of her, after all.

Violet takes two steps closer and there, she hesitates.

Eventually, she seems to work something out inside her head because in the next moment Clementine is brought in for a tight, desperate hug. The blonde sighs into her shoulder. Clementine can feel the way her lungs shudder on the exhale.

“I really thought you were dead, Clem.”

Equally hesitant, Clementine brings her arms up to hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s had human contact like this. Jane was probably the last time she’d hugged anybody. AJ excepted.

This feels different. Safer. It’s been years since she’s felt safe around anyone. Can she say that aloud? Should she?

“It’s really good to see you again,” she admits instead. Violet nods twice against her neck and then steps away, lingering at arm’s length.

“It’s good to see you, too.” She sighs again; rubs at her eyes and walks back to the desk. “Just wish Mitch and the others felt the same. Louis and I told them about what happened in the woods. That woman who attacked you, I—”

“Lilly,” Clementine interrupts. She hasn’t yet sorted out how she ought to feel about Lilly.

Violet gives her an unreadable look. “So you do know her. We were wondering.” She sits in Marlon’s chair, slumping into it and looking eons more exhausted in an instant. “Who the hell is she?”

Three very distinct images flash before her eyes. One: Lilly kneeling before her with two purple hair bands resting in the palm of her hand, a kind smile softening the hard edges of her face. Two: Lilly hovering over her dad’s dead body, skull crushed by the strange block, courtesy of Kenny, Lee’s arms tight around her as she watches Lilly sob and sob and sob, the smell of blood tangy in the air. Three: Lilly and the deafening  _ bang,  _ the pistol rattling as it shakes in her hands, Carley’s blood seeping into black asphalt, Lee’s expression a picture of somber rage. Watching Lilly’s figure get smaller and smaller as the RV drives away. 

“We were in a group together, long time ago,” she says, shaking away the memories. “She was always… complicated. Her dad was a racist asshole, and she defended everything he did, but for a while it seemed like she genuinely cared about our wellbeing.”

Here, Clementine has to turn away from Violet, eyes finding purchase in a particularly interesting crack in the wall somewhere to Violet’s left. The words are thick and taste like dust.

“Then, she murdered someone in our group. Gunned her down in an argument.” Clementine can’t put a face to the name anymore, but she remembers the sharp eyes well, remembers how much she cared, remembers how  _ good  _ she and Lee could have been. Her voice wants to crack when she speaks again, but she manages to push through it. “Carley was her name. She refused to let Lilly push her around. It was right at the start. I haven’t seen Lilly since.”

“I believe you,” Violet says. Clementine reads right through her tone.

“...But?”

“...There’s something else. Willy said someone was with you at the gates?”

Clementine tenses. “James. He saved me and AJ, let us stay in his camp for the night.”

Violet's gaze grows a little more serious, a little more desperate.

“But why did you bring him  _ here? _ You led him right to us. He’s a stranger, Clem.”

Clementine swallows down the lump in her throat, but cannot shove aside the still-exhausted burn of every muscle in her body, can feel the yellow-green bruise on the back of her neck, the cramp of her fingers from clutching a knife too long, the heat of AJ’s skin pressed against her neck as she carried him the long miles back to Ericson’s, the residual pain of the rib she’d cracked in the crash, of the shallow gash running along the side of her head.

She thinks of AJ’s blood, brilliant red in the light of the campfire, still crumbling into fine brown dust between the creases of her hands.

“I’d run out of options,” she says in a quiet voice, closing her hands into fists. Thankfully, Violet seems to get it, because she doesn’t press the issue.

“Willy said he was wearing animal skins or something.”

“Walker skins,” Clementine corrects softly. “It’s how he gets through herds. He said he could guide them, too.”

Violet’s face scrunches and she makes an indecipherable sound in the back of her throat.

Feeling awkward, Clementine continues. “He seemed trustworthy, I guess, but I swear I wouldn’t have brought him here if I had the choice.” She swallows again. The lump is back, and this time it lingers. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Violet watches her with sad eyes for a moment before clearing her throat and looking away. When she speaks again, there’s a rough edge to her voice.

“We didn’t have much time to mourn Brody and Marlon before these kid-snatching assholes showed up. Now, you and AJ are back after we all thought you were dead, and nobody knows how to feel about what happened.”

“I know,” Clementine says. “And if this were under normal circumstances, he and I would be gone as soon as his fever went away. We’d be out of your hair.” Violet frowns and opens her mouth, but Clementine beats her to it. “But these aren’t normal circumstances. The raiders are going to come back, but this time, it won’t just be Lilly and Abel.”

She walks over to the balcony. The morning air is crisp and smells of late autumn.

“They’ll bring guns. More people. They want everyone here, want to take them away to their community to fight a stupid war against another colony.”

Violet is silent for a moment before speaking. On the desktop, her hands are tightened into white-knuckled fists.

“Is that what happened to Sophie and Minnie? They turned them into soldiers?”

Clementine nods, feeling uncharacteristically on-edge. She knows Violet believes her. Trusts her. Somehow, that’s only making being honest harder. “Yeah. It’ll happen to us, too, if we don’t stop them.”

Violet’s eyes trace the grooves of the desk and she looks so sad in that moment that Clementine wants nothing more than to drive her away from this whole mess when she says in a wobbly voice: “Minnie didn’t even like killing walkers.”

And yet, time is a luxury they don’t have. Lilly could be back in days. She could be back in mere hours. Clementine approaches the desk and spreads Marlon’s school map in front of Violet. She waits until the other girl meets her gaze again, brown against gray-green. 

“We need to prepare for the attack. With a little work, we could make this place a fortress.”

Violet huffs, folding her arms across her chest and somehow managing to look both skeptical and amused at the same time. “You actually know how to do that?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I was part of a siege once.”

Violet rolls her eyes. “Story for another time.”

It’s so  _ easy  _ to be like this with her, away from the daily violence and the weight of the lives they bear. Violet makes her feel at peace in one instance, with the dry banter and easing of past traumas into small talk, makes her feel like life could be this simple forever if she let it; but always, in the next instance, Clementine catches herself, catches her tongue before she says too much, before the trickle of truth becomes a pour.

It’s confusing. It’s too much. It’s times like these where she really misses Lee, because he’d know just what to say to help her understand what all this means.

For now, she sets aside the jumbled, half-made thoughts and messy emotions in favor of guiding Violet through the ideas she has for Ericson’s. Of course, their strategy discussion is interrupted by Mitch— Ruby trailing inside not long after.

Clementine agrees to clear out the greenhouse. Violet orders Mitch to join her, and Clementine tries to ignore the weird twist in her stomach when Violet says ‘fuck.’ Ruby tags along to keep the peace.

“They’ll meet you at the gate,” Violet says when Clementine’s hand brushes the doorknob. “I’m just going to explain the situation to them.”

They share one last lingering look before Clementine sidesteps Mitch and gently closes the door behind her.

 

* * *

Clementine enters her room quietly, still smelling of graveyard soil, Ruby’s words playing in her head over and over on repeat.

_ “You’ve got a good heart, under all that muck.” _

There’s black dirt caked beneath her fingernails. She hasn’t showered since Richmond, so who knows what sort of hellish amalgamation of sweat, grime, and gore is coating her skin. There’s so much blood on her hands. So many lives lost because of her.  _ For  _ her. Lee. Kenny. Jane. Luke. Pete. Sarah. Walter. Sarita. Rebecca. David. Gabe.

And for what? So she could let AJ die, too?

Her eyes flicker to his sleeping form, to the muddy brown stain over his abdomen. It’s the first time in two days his face hasn’t been scrunched in pain. Only in times like these does he really look and act his age.

Clementine takes the chair from the desk and sits next to his bed, taking one of his tiny hands into hers and keeping her thumb on the pulse. For hours, she sits like this. People come and go. Ruby comes to check on the wound, Louis drops off several new sweatshirts for AJ, Violet and Tenn stop by to see how she’s doing, and even Aasim takes a peek inside at one point.

But Clementine? Clementine just sits and watches AJ with one eye open, contemplating what it means to have a good heart in a world where being good doesn’t matter because kindness is no shield against the dead. Kindness can’t stop a bullet.

She sits and wonders about how soon this good heart will kill her. She doesn’t think about the ifs. It will kill her for certain.

Despite her exhaustion, she gets no sleep that night. 

Violet takes one look at her the next morning and ushers her back into her room, where she sleeps hard until dinner that evening. After dinner, they begin to plan for war.

 

* * *

_ A baby is crying.  _

_ Clementine knows that cry. Knows it well. Sits up in her moth-eaten bed, scrambles onto legs that she cannot feel. She feels cold and hollowed out. The halls are stained with red light and the dying horse wanders, the cries getting louder as she walks. Ash falls like snow from the ceiling and her lungs taste like fire. She can’t cough. Can’t breathe. _

_ The door with crimson panes. Glass cracked and churned into dust beneath her boots. AJ screams bloody murder in the near distance and her stomach gives a violent lurch. The doorknob is scalding, but she rips it open anyways and steps into the white-hot light and then— _

Clementine awakens with a start, sweat dripping from her chin and tears burning in her eyes. AJ is sitting up in bed and looking at her with familiar eyes. He tells her that she’d had the same dream about the ranch, and her head thuds back into her pillow.

She’d hoped that  _ that  _ particular memory would stay gone. Apparently not. They never do.

For a few minutes as her heart sinks back into her chest and the sweat cools on her skin, she and AJ talk. He shows her his makeshift knife and it’s good, it’s surprisingly good, and while she wants him to keep it, it stays on the nightstand for now. They aren’t in danger right now. Well, AJ isn’t. Clementine still feels like the rotten part of her brain is actively trying to torment her. 

When she finally feels as if the weak tremble in her hands has gone away, she ushers AJ to bed. He pauses by the edge of his mattress and looks back at her.

“Can I… could I maybe sleep in your bed? Like I did when I was little.”

Despite the wrong feeling churning within her in the nightmare’s wake, she manages a smile and scoots over to give him room. He nestles against her naturally, like two broken pieces of porcelain finally coming together.   
  
“AJ?” she says, eyes dim.   
  
“What?”

“You’re still little.”

He sighs into her jacket. “Yeah, I know.”

He probably believes that. She doesn’t.

He falls asleep quickly. Clementine listens for hours, listens to the gentle and undisturbed breaths against her collarbone. Eventually, she, too, manages to drift off into a dreamless state of unconsciousness, but when she wakes the following morning, the wrong feeling remains.

 

* * *

The two weeks since Clementine’s return have passed quickly. Clementine spent most of her time with Violet as the two of them oversaw Ericson’s fortification, and the rest was dedicated to helping AJ adjust to his injury. After all, she’s been in his position before— after Arvo shot her. It hurts him, obviously, but he’s always been a tough kid, so for the most part Ruby’s watchful eyes and Tenn’s careful guidance are enough to keep him away from harm.

Relations with Louis are still tense. They’ve both been trying, but it’s been a dance around the ugly truth that AJ, and by extension Clementine, got Marlon killed; Marlon, Louis’s friend of many years. But they’re really trying to smooth it over.

The school itself is now on the brink of being ready for an all-out invasion. Wooden spikes and upturned tables litter the courtyard, the barbed wire sitting tall and proud like a deadly crown atop the walls, and Mitch is getting so, so close to being done with his bomb. They’re almost there. They’re almost ready for what’s coming,

But it’s also been a week past when Clementine assumed the raiders would be back. It’s making her antsy. It’s making  _ everyone  _ antsy. The slightest creak in the aging floorboards has weapons drawn. Report of movement has them rallying their defenses— and even when it’s revealed to be another stray walker, the anxiety never dies. It just stacks and stacks and they’re all pulled tight like drawstrings, just waiting to snap.

They’re all trying, giving everything they’ve got, but in the pit of Clementine’s stomach she doesn’t know if it’ll be enough. She hasn’t been sleeping well, so her anxiety is jacked up to an all time high, but she doesn’t think it’s that big of a difference from how nervous she would be otherwise.

Clearly, other people are catching on.

Violet invites her to the bell tower at the same time that Louis invites her to the music room. Without thinking, she jogs after Violet, chasing the safe feeling Violet’s hands leave on her skin. It probably won’t be for much longer that she feels safe at all.

Violet it waiting for her, and when Clementine reaches her side, the defensive slump in her shoulders falls away, and she offers her a smile.

 

* * *

“...Do you have time to hang out first?”

 

* * *

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just— talk so much. It’s just...”

Clementine watches her look away, and then back, and then inch closer until their shoulders and knees bump together. It’s, well, it’s close. Heat crawls up Clementine’s neck. Her mouth feels dry and her tongue like lead. Her heart does this moderately painful little jump in her chest.

Violet sighs and looks out across Ericson’s. It’s evident that these words aren’t coming to her easily, and yet, here she is saying them. Clementine is afraid of the reason why. Too afraid to even spare a thought to it. 

“I’ve watched people leave before. Family, friends… they never come back.” Green meets brown. “But you did. And now, I can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.”

Honestly? Clementine doesn’t know how to respond to that. There’s never been a moment where she’s really felt like— like she’s mattered in any significant way. All she seems to bring is death and grief to the people around her, and yet, here’s Violet, telling her in a few less words that she  _ matters.  _ That she’s more than a bad omen.

She feels off-set. Unbalanced. It isn’t a common occurrence that she is so unsure of herself, but this is different. This isn’t the heat of battle or a scramble to survive. It’s just the two of them and a few choice words that mean more than they both realize.

Violet mistakes her silence for judgement. She fumbles.

“Um, shit. That sounds so much dumber when I say it out loud.”

Finally, Clementine remembers how to breathe. The words come together unfinished and clumsy, her mouth moving faster than her brain and her heart leading her in blind—

“I think— I mean, I hope we’re—” She chokes. Wavers. Swallows hard and tries again. “—more than friends. And. I want...”

What does she want? At least  _ that  _ she knows, because it’s so simple. She wants to feel safe, to feel like she matters beyond being a tool of a fractured world. She wants to stay with Ericson’s, the first home she has known since Lee. She wants to be with Violet, because “safe” and “home” and “Violet” are all words that nearly mean the same thing.   
  
She wants to  _ be  _ with Violet. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. If she were to ask Lee, she’s fairly certain he would tell her that it’s love. Which is pretty terrifying. Because she doesn’t know what someone in love is supposed to do.

Well, she’ll try her best.

Their lips collide gently. Violet freezes, and then she melts.

It’s a little awkward. Their noses bump together and Clementine starts laughing, and then Violet is laughing sheerly because Clementine is, giving her a look that’s sweet enough to make her chest heave.

“Holy shit,” Violet breathes, still grinning, high on her own raw happiness.

“Yeah, holy shit,” Clementine agrees, knocking their legs together. After a moment, though, her grin falls and she looks away. It’s hard not to feel ashamed about being happy, not when there’s so much going on and everything is miserable around her. 

“I need time to figure this all out,” she explains when Violet asks what’s wrong. “I really like you. But there’s just so much going on. The raiders, the other kids.” She pauses. “AJ.”

There’s a gentle touch on her hand as Violet’s own comes to rest on top of it. The other girl waits until Clementine meets her gaze before smiling, small and genuine and framed by starlight. “I know. But don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Clementine believes her. There’s a fierce surety there, backing that belief with zeal. Clementine surges forward to kiss her again, hoping that it’s more of an  _ I love you more than I can say  _ kind of kiss and less of an  _ I won’t lose you, too. _

_ “Vi, Clem, you out here?” _

 

* * *

The raiders are here. That cold feeling Clementine gets before a storm? It’s back.

 

* * *

“The raiders finally show up?” Violet asks, catching up with her and AJ as they walk towards the center of the courtyard.

“Yeah,” Clementine says. AJ runs ahead to talk to Tenn. There’s a brief silence between them, but it’s no longer awkward like it used to be. That she only found this internal peace on the brink of war really bums out, though.

She feels fingers interlace with her own, tugging her to a stop. When she turns to ask Violet what’s going on, her girlfriend’s expression is somber. Violet squeezes her hand.

“Stay safe, okay?”

Not knowing what else to do, Clementine squeezes back, prays that her smile is reassuring. Anything to ease Violet’s concerns.

“You, too.”

They separate and join the others, but Clementine carries the residual warmth of Violet’s hand all the way up until the first molotov sails overhead.

 

* * *

Once it begins, there’s no break in the fighting. From the get-go, Clem has known that there will come a time where she puts herself in harm's way just as they’d all planned, but the sniper in the tree is making that part of things rather difficult.

And then she’d put herself in harm’s way. Mitch is dead on the ground, blood gurgling up from the gaping hole in his neck, and the strange indent in his skull from Lilly’s knife looks odd and empty. Tenn ran off to who knows where. Willy is screaming. Violet and Louis are herded around AJ behind one of the courtyard pillars, and Clem is alone on the battlefield with nothing but Marlon’s bow and seventeen arrows.

They fall back into the admin building. Clementine takes a risky shot at the sniper in the tree, and pays for it. The bullet grazes her side, leaving an open, stinging cut in its wake, but when Clementine releases her shot, the rain of bullets stops. It buys her the time she needs to scramble inside. Louis slams the doors shut behind her and they set up the barricades before rushing upstairs.

On the landing, Violet is crouched next to the duffel bag trap, but her eyes flicker over the growing patch of red at Clementine’s side when Clementine crouches next to her. She doesn’t comment on it because there are more pressing issues, but her brows furrow with concern.

The two of them push the couch into a burly woman racing up the stairs. The man below throws another molotov, and they separate, Violet with Louis down the hallway and Clementine with AJ in the main office. Fortunately, Abel follows her and not them.

The fight is messy and bloody. They wrestle against the desk until Clementine shoves the toy lighthouse into his eye until it pops. In return, Abel jabs a thumb into the bullet wound at her side and she howls. AJ drives a fire iron through Abel’s foot, and Clementine tackles him into the railing of the balcony. As far away from her boy as possible.

The wood is weak and moth-eaten, and cannot bear the both of them. It snaps like a bowstring, and they plummet into the flames below. She lands on top of him, her weight coming on his legs until they crumple into fine shards of bone.

Still. It’s a hard fall, one that leaves her gasping for breath that won’t come due to the pain. She staggers to her knees, fingers dragging over splinters and glass and blood.

_ Get up,  _ says a nameless voice in her head.  _ Get up, keep walking. _

A gun clicks. She feels steel on her skin, Lilly’s voice echoing around in her head past the ringing in her ears.

“I could kill you. Right now,” Lilly says.

Clementine stares back at her, unwavering. “Do it, then.”

“Are you saying I won’t?”

“I’m saying you don’t have the guts.”

Lilly’s trigger finger twitches. A cold, calm feeling washes over her.

Kneeling on the ground with the barrel of Lilly’s gun pressed against her forehead, Clementine realizes something.

Kenny was right. Here, on the brink of death, it's not terrifying or horrible. There’s no pain, no trembling, just this sense of acceptance, a numb tide of ease. She’s bleeding from at least ten places and she knows that if she dies here AJ will be alone, but with the cold steel resting against her head, none of that seems to register.

Dying is peaceful.

She closes her eyes and wonders if this is how Lee felt.

There’s an enraged roar before a small, familiar blur tackles Lilly into the ground. The crack of the gun is deafening, and the bullet pounds into the dirt just behind her. Her ear is ringing painfully but she staggers to her feet nonetheless. Violet has Lilly pinned on the ground, the butcher’s knife hovering mere inches away from Lilly’s neck as the older woman struggles to keep it at bay.

Clementine moves to help Violet but a hand wraps around her ankle and she stumbles to the ground. Abel is on top of her, and his weight alone keeps her pinned even though his attacks are weak and sloppy. Clementine nails him twice in the nose and the second hit makes a satisfying crunch. Abel reels back, blood streaming down his face and dripping onto hers. He lands a solid punch on the graze at her side, and she chokes on air. The pain forces her to recoil, giving him some ground. Too much ground.

She realizes too late that he’s reaching for a gun. But Rosie is faster than he is.

The pitbull’s jaws clamp down hard on Abel’s remaining arm, ripping flesh from muscle in sinewy strings. It doesn’t look like she’s going to relent any time soon. Clementine whispers a quick ‘good girl’ before grabbing the bow from the ground and hurrying off to find wherever Violet and Lilly went.

They’re by the bonfire. Lilly is forcing Violet back, and there’s a trickle of blood running down Violet’s lip and jaw from a nasty split. She’s losing. Clementine readies her shot.

From her left, she hears Louis cry out in pain as he takes a hit from one of the remaining raiders. He’s being driven back towards the horse-driven cage, where two unconscious bodies are already stacked.

This is the last arrow she has. There’s no way she can save them both. How can she choose? Does she save Louis, the first to readily accept them as allies after they were rescued from the crash, who may never fully forgive her and AJ for what they did, but let them back into Ericson’s anyways when he could have so easily turned them away— or does she save Violet, who was slow to warm up but since then has always been so steadfast, so unfailingly stable and loyal, whose voice had been so soft and honest up on the bell tower, whose lips had been dry and gentle when they kissed.

There’s no time. Thinking fast, Clementine adjusts her grip, and she lets her arrow fly.

 

* * *

Abel is left outside, lashed to the wooden pole where they’d found him and patched up just enough to keep him alive, but not enough to remove the pain. They’d buried Mitch and cleared out some of the rubble. Ruby had given her some gauze, a needle, and string after Clementine offered to stitch herself up. The redhead is currently tending to AJ, whose own wounds had been kicked open by Abel.

They’d lost four today. The rest are all wounded. The gates are ruined, so Tenn is on watch with Rosie right now.

Clementine is in her room. The stitches had been difficult, to say the least, but she’s not bleeding through the gauze and that’s good enough. It’s quiet without AJ here, so there’s nothing to keep her in the present.

How in the hell are they going to come back from this?

There’s a tentative knock at her door.

Clementine chokes down her guilt. “Yeah?”

Violet steps inside, the blood cleaned from her face. The bed dips next to Clementine, and for a while they just sit there in a tense, contemplative silence.

Violet is the first to break. Tears build in her eyes and slip down her cheeks. Clementine follows soon after, years of pent-up confusion and shame and sorrow spilling into the fabric of Violet’s vest. They hold each other tightly, arms wrapped around shoulders and waists. Clementine is afraid that if she lets go, Violet will be whisked away.

One of Violet’s hands moves to brush against Clementine’s fresh wound. The pain is dull. Violet is only assuring herself that Clementine, too, is alive and present.

“I’m sorry,” Clementine warbles, voice raspy from the tears.

Violet shudders against her, pressing their temples together. “Me too.”

Over Ericson’s, smoke roses into the sky.


End file.
